A mass of struggling boys bore furiously down upon them, and Uncle Dan, taken altogether by surprise, toppled unceremoniously over, while the lighter Redfern sprawled full length on the sward.
“The young scamps—the——”
But the remainder of the Colonel’s sentence was lost in a roar of sound. A wave of shouts had arisen; the boy with the megaphone used it with the utmost abandon; and Owen Andrews again succeeded in proving the superior nature of his treasured tin horn.
In the general excitement, the Colonel’s mishap had attracted but little attention. Bob Somers and the astounded chauffeur jumped to his assistance, but were waved unceremoniously aside.
When the others again looked around, they saw Colonel Ellison standing erect, his tall form towering above Redfern, who had also regained his feet. Close to him stood the excited Pierre and George Clayton.
The latter seemed more interested in the finish of the game than anything else, and the boys didn’t wonder at it. They saw immediately that the Colonel and Redfern had not been hurt.
It was a moment of the utmost confusion, and the Ripleys, quick as a flash, saw their advantage. The push ball, like a thing of life, whirled off at right angles, then forward again. Ralph Chickers slipped, and several other Thornton lads fell over him.
With an irresistible rush, the Ripleys once more hurled themselves upon the ball.
The Thorntons fought desperately, but the attempt was as useless as trying to stop the tides. Lon Bates frantically commanded and stormed, only to find that his followers could not be rallied.
Fifteen feet from the goal—ten.